


When You Say Nothing At All

by inexplicifics



Series: Sugar and Spice Bingo [2]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Love Languages
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-18 14:20:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28744620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inexplicifics/pseuds/inexplicifics
Summary: “I think I’ve figured you out,” Jaskier says, and Geralt raises both eyebrows. There’s not muchtofigure out, surely. He’s a witcher. He kills monsters for money. What more is there to know?
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Sugar and Spice Bingo [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2096091
Comments: 59
Kudos: 775
Collections: Sugar and Spice Witcher Bingo





	When You Say Nothing At All

“You wouldn’t make Roach travel in this, would you?” Jaskier asks plaintively, peering out the tiny window of their rented room at the torrential downpour outside.

“Hm,” Geralt says. It is true that Roach would not enjoy being out in this. For that matter, neither would Geralt, but he’s used to being uncomfortable. But Roach hasn’t had a day of rest in...a while, and the stable at this inn is really quite nice, and the stable-boy slipped Roach an apple when he thought Geralt wasn’t looking. And Jaskier is starting to look truly exhausted, not just the mock-weariness he puts on for his own amusement. And Geralt has some mending to do, and a few plants to prepare for eventual potion-brewing…

“Fine,” he says, turning away from the window.

“Oh, _thank you_!” Jaskier carols, and flops down onto the bed. “Bless you, Geralt, really. I think my legs would give out if I had to walk all day!”

“Thought I was doing this for Roach,” Geralt teases, settling beside the little fireplace and fishing a heap of torn clothing out of his pack, then digging for his mending kit.

“You are a terrible man,” Jaskier laughs. “Oh, can you fix my doublet?”

Geralt lifts his head to give Jaskier an incredulous look. “I’m no sempster.”

“Yes, but I can’t sew at _all_.” Jaskier swoons dramatically. “I shall be wandering the roads in rags and tatters! A laughingstock to all who see me!”

“This is different how?” Geralt inquires, but he snags Jaskier’s doublet out of the pack, too, and looks over the tear - courtesy of a particularly enthusiastic thornbush, if he recalls correctly. It’s not that bad, really, and he has some thread in the appropriate color, thanks to a very grateful and utterly coinless seamstress from four towns back. And it’s not in a terribly obvious spot. He can probably fix it.

He’s almost done, concentrating hard on making his stitches both tiny and even, when he realizes Jaskier has been silent for an astonishingly long time. He looks up to see that Jaskier is lying on his front on the bed, head propped up on his hands, watching Geralt work.

“Thank you,” Jaskier says, unwontedly quiet.

Geralt blinks at him.

“I think I’ve figured you out,” Jaskier says, and Geralt raises both eyebrows. There’s not much _to_ figure out, surely. He’s a witcher. He kills monsters for money. What more is there to know?

“Me, I’m all about words,” Jaskier continues thoughtfully. “But you aren’t. You’re about _deeds_. If I just listened to what you said, I’d think you barely tolerated me.” Geralt is starting to get a little worried. “But that’s the wrong thing to pay attention to.” He kicks his feet a little, humming a scrap of tune, as Geralt finishes mending the tear and sets the doublet aside. Geralt is wondering whether he can escape downstairs to get food before Jaskier keeps talking.

“I haven’t needed to get my shoes re-soled since we started traveling together,” Jaskier says. Geralt sighs and picks up one of his own shirts. “There are always spare lute strings in your bags. My _stockings_ are darned. You catch rabbits instead of squirrels whenever you can, and I _hate_ squirrel meat. You grumble and grouse and let us stay inside when it’s truly foul weather, even though I know you could keep traveling without any trouble. And now you’ve mended my doublet. With, I notice, thread of a matching color, which I know for a fact you would not need for _your_ clothes, my monochromatic friend.”

There’s a long pause. Geralt stares at the black shirt in his hands and tries not to show any reaction at all, needle moving steadily through the fabric. This rip was probably from a kikimora. Maybe a nekker. He’s fought both in the last few weeks.

“You take care of me,” Jaskier says, so softly maybe only a witcher could hear it. “You care about me.”

Geralt flinches a little. The next sentence is going to hurt. No one wants a witcher to care about them. Nobody wants a monster to be paying close enough attention to know when they need new soles on their boots, or strings on their lute, or thread of a particular color to mend their doublet.

“Thank you,” Jaskier says.

Geralt looks up, startled. Jaskier is watching him with a soft smile, nothing like the bright grin he wears while performing - small and sweet and utterly without artifice. “Thank you,” he says again. “You’re a good friend, Geralt. I just had to learn to listen to the things you were saying without words.”

Geralt considers that for a while, and then, tentatively, offers his friend a small smile, and a soft, affectionate, utterly wordless hum.

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the Sugar & Spice Bingo, and betaed by the amazing RoS13!
> 
> I am available on tumblr and discord - drop by and say hello!


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